Page 118 of The True Garza
“Monica made up for it, so it’s fine. She’s the best mother any child could ask for.” He kisses my temple. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for things to get so depressing.”
“No, no, it’s nice to know a little more about you. Thank you for telling me.” My stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since lunch. “You need to feed me, sir.”
We peel ourselves up off the kitchen floor, righting our clothes.
“What were you cooking, anyway?” I ask.
Instead of answering, he drives me back against the pantry door and kisses me. Deep and demanding. Hardening at my belly all over again. But, damn, I can’t go another round until I eat something.
Breaking the kiss, he drops his forehead to mine and sighs out, “I don’t know how to let you go.”
I don’t want you to let me go. “You have to.”
“Why? We have a good thing going.” He pauses. “Do you really like him that much?”
“Not really.”
“Then still see me. Twice a week. If things get serious between you and him, I swear I’ll leave you alone.”
“I can’t, True.”
He presses harder against me. Damn near flattening me to the door. “You can’t, or you don’t want to?”
“I can’t because….”Oh god. My heart hurts. I can’t say it.
He lifts his forehead from mine and meets my eyes. “Because…?”
In the spirit of being vulnerable…. “Because I’m in love with you.”
There it is.
Bomb in the ocean.
True’s hands fall from me as if I’ve burned him. Rigidly, he takes a step back. Then another. His stare is condemning, as if I’ve committed a sin. As if I’ve ruined everything.
I knew this would hurt. But one can never adequately prepare the heart for pain.
“See? That look….” With a forced smile, I gesture laxly to his face. “Do you understand why we have to stop now?”
His lips part as if to respond, but the sudden ringing of a phone chops through the tense moment like a guillotine.
We both move in opposite directions.
It’s his phone that rang.
He answers it.
I try not to hyperventilate.
“What, when?” … “Anybody hurt?” … “No, no fire it up. I’ll fly with Tripp.” … “Okay. Be there in thirty.”
“What happened?” I ask after he hangs up.
“There was an attempted attack on our Denver compound. Two of our men are injured. I gotta go.”
“To Denver?”
“Yeah,” he answers distractedly, heading for the stairs. “Sorry. You’ll have to order dinner.”
